


If This Is All We Have

by Lurlur



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: After the Bus, All aboard the Feels train, Angst, Angst and Romance, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Bodyswap, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mid-Canon, Missing Scene, Non-Sexual, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Some real heart wrenching stuff, The Savoy, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), before the park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Summary: The world hadn't ended. Crowley was drunk and Aziraphale was worried.Tonight might be their last night on Earth, or anywhere else for that matter.Crowley had invited him to stay, but Aziraphale has other ideas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It bothers me that Crowley invites Aziraphale to stay at his place on the night the world didn't end but they aren't together the next morning. This is my attempt at a filler scene to explain what happens that night between them being on the bus back to London and meeting again in the park for ice cream.
> 
> Many thanks to Pearl09 for beta reading and giving me great comments!

Aziraphale was thinking. There were a lot of thoughts to be had and all of them were vying for his attention. This was making it difficult to put his metaphorical hands on the one that was really bothering him. The bus hit a pothole and nearly bumped him off his seat. He automatically put a hand out to steady himself, only looking down at it when he realised that he had grabbed Crowley’s thigh. 

For his part, the demon merely mumbled and hugged the empty wine bottle closer to his chest. Aziraphale smiled indulgently at him and miracled a pillow between Crowley’s head and the window. That jolted the thought Aziraphale had been struggling with to the forefront. They had boarded the bus knowing that it would take them back to London, but where in London were they going? An echo of Crowley’s invitation rolled around Aziraphale’s memory and, despite his reservations, the idea still made him smile. 

There were few things that Aziraphale felt that he could be sure of. Firstly, there would be repercussions for what had happened today. Secondly, whilst punishment would be high on the list of priorities, Heaven and Hell both had more pressing matters to deal with immediately. Thirdly, Aziraphale didn’t want to spend the night alone.

With all that considered, he still felt uneasy about staying in the home of a demon. Not because of any lingering loyalty to heaven, mind. Something was evading his consideration, a sort of wisp of an idea that tonight should be spent in neutral territory. Looking once more at the dozing Crowley next to him, Aziraphale made a decision. A few quick miracles later and the bus driver had a firm destination, a suitable hotel had been located, and a booking appeared in their system. Aziraphale hoped that Crowley wouldn’t be offended, it was just the one night after all.

-~-

When the bus pulled up outside the Savoy Hotel a little over an hour later, Crowley was still asleep. Aziraphale gave one of those soft and loving looks that were reserved exclusively for him before gently touching him on the shoulder.

“Crowley, wake up. We’re here.”

Crowley whined and tried to roll away but found himself constricted by the geometry of public bus design. 

“Come on, Crowley.” Aziraphale tugged Crowley’s arm to help him stand. “We’ve delayed this poor driver long enough.”

Still hugging the empty wine bottle, Crowley stood on uneasy legs and straightened his sunglasses. Aziraphale turned to thank the driver and perform a discreet blessing by way of payment. He heard Crowley step off the bus, make a confused noise, and then step back on behind him.

“You said we’d arrived. I’m not walking back to Mayfair from here.” Crowley pouted. 

With an indulgent smile, the angel herded Crowley back off the bus. Aziraphale could see the hurt on his face, even through the exaggerated grimace. It was obvious that he wasn’t really worried about getting back home, he was hurt that Aziraphale had apparently decided not to stay with him.

“Crowley, please just wait a moment.” Aziraphale stopped him from flagging down a cab. “Let me explain!”

“You don’t wanna come back to mine. S’fine. I-I’d rather be alone anyway.” Crowley was not convincing.

“Please! I don’t want to be without you tonight.” 

That made Crowley stop in his tracks. He looked at the angel over the top of his sunglasses and then permitted himself to be ushered towards the entrance of the hotel. Aziraphale felt himself let go of a breath he hadn’t been conscious of holding. The thought of Crowley going back to his cold, sterile flat and leaving Aziraphale alone, after all that had happened today, was just too much to bear.

As they walked down the sheltered side street that led to the hotel, Aziraphale miracled away the empty wine bottle and took Crowley’s suddenly free hand. He tucked it into the crook of his elbow, forcing Crowley to both move closer and walk in step with him. Aziraphale could feel the stiffness in Crowley’s usually fluid gait. Clearly, he was still suspicious.

“I know this isn’t what you expected, but I rather think that we’ve got a lot to talk about. Please just come inside with me and let me explain.”

“I’m coming with you, aren’t I?” The question was rhetorical and meant to poke fun at Aziraphale’s pleading tone, but the angel still felt Crowley relax a little more.

The lobby of the Savoy is elegant in the same way that the Ritz is opulent. Aziraphale hadn’t visited since long before the refurbishment, usually preferring neoclassical decadence to the simpler styles of the Edwardian era. Still, he allowed himself an appreciative glance at the clean architectural lines, fresh flowers, and stark chequered floor. If Crowley cared at all about their surroundings, he made no outward sign of it.


	2. Chapter 2

The suite that Aziraphale had secured balanced on a fine line between stately and comfortable. The sofa, chairs, and bed all looked very welcoming, but the pale floral motifs were a touch on the chintzy side. It was clearly a suite designed to relax its occupants whilst constantly reminding them that this was a fine establishment. 

Crowley had begun pouring drinks as soon as Aziraphale had closed the door. Now, drink in hand and the bottle within easy reach, Crowley lounged on the sofa and watched Aziraphale pace. 

“Well, angel. What was so important that it needed to be said in the sodding Savoy?” 

Aziraphale paused in his anxious pacing and gazed out at the river. He was feeling less settled by the minute. His fingers compulsively twisted and toyed with the gold ring on his little finger as his brow creased into deeper concern. With a sudden, decisive motion, he crossed the room and sat down heavily next to Crowley.

“I’m worried.” He said, as if letting Crowley in on some big secret.

“Pff-ssshh-uhh-wha?” Crowley tried to make every sarcastic noise he knew at once in order to express his comical disbelief.

Aziraphale shot him a stern look before continuing. “We know that Heaven and Hell will be coming for us soon. We really can’t know how long we’ve got. I’m worried that if we don’t have a plan in place soon, it will all be too late. I don’t- I don’t want you to be destroyed, Crowley!”

Giving voice to his deepest fear sent cold shivers down his spine. Aziraphale looked down at his hands to avoid the unreadable gaze coming from behind Crowley’s glasses. He picked up the drink that Crowley had poured for him and took a gulp.

“Is that all?” Crowley’s voice was cool and sharp, like a blade. Aziraphale very much wanted to avoid the edge of it.

“It’s the most pressing concern.” He hesitated, not daring to meet Crowley’s gaze. “But no. No, there are many things I want to say.”

Crowley twisted so that he was firmly in the corner of the sofa, his right arm laid along the back, his left hand hanging off the end of the arm of the sofa, and his right leg across the seat so his foot was barely dangling off the edge. It was an open and inviting pose, showing Aziraphale that not only was Crowley listening but that he was interested. 

“Go on.” When he spoke, his mouth had no trace of mockery or malice.

Another large swallow of wine did nothing to steel Aziraphale’s nerves. Where should he start? He looked down into his glass as if to convince himself that he was talking to the drink rather than his best and dearest friend.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful for the invitation to your home tonight, Crowley. It was very thoughtful of you. It’s just that it occurred to me that you might think I was only there because I don’t have any other option. I want to spend tonight with you as friends and equals. I didn’t want you to feel like there was any obligation.” He finally lifted his gaze to meet Crowley’s.

For his part, the demon hadn’t moved a muscle. He just looked at Aziraphale with an expression that gave away nothing of what he was thinking. Silence stretched between them for aeons, millennia even. Civilisations rose and fell during the silence that flowed between them. Just as Aziraphale was about to turn to dust and collapse, Crowley cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair.

“You, uh- You thought about this quite a lot, I see.”

Aziraphale merely nodded, suddenly very confused about his perception of time. He swallowed, hard.

“You’re my best friend, Crowley. No one else comes close. And there’s a very real chance that one or both of us won’t survive whatever tomorrow brings. This is how I want to spend my last night. Now you have options and no obligation. I’d like you to stay here with me, but I won’t stop you from leaving.” Aziraphale’s vision had begun to swim. Tears were pooling along his lower lashes as he all but begged the only being he cared about not to leave him alone.

“Angel, you really are very stupid. Of course, I’m not going anywhere! I drove through hellfire to be with you for the apocalypse. You don’t do that for just anyone.”

A smile of relief spread across Aziraphale’s face. “Oh! Oh, I am glad.”

Crowley returned the smile and lifted his glass in a slightly mocking toast to the angel.

Something unsaid settled between them. Although, not uncomfortably. 

“You drove through hellfire? And kept your corporation intact? AND held the Bentley together? AND then stopped time, giving us a chance to talk to Adam and give him just enough time to think? You must be exhausted.”

Crowley treated the angel to one of his coolest grins. He gave the slightest of shrugs as if to indicate that these feats were of no consequence to a demon as magnificent as Crowley. Aziraphale giggled into his drink. 

The atmosphere had become one of easy companionship and relaxation. It felt a bit like old times to Aziraphale as he watched Crowley perform his way through his recollections of the past day. He told the angel about the visit from Hastur and Ligur, drawing concerned gasps from his rapt audience member. Crowley seemed to hesitate over the telling of his discovery of the burning bookshop and the loss of Aziraphale. The angel assured him that the loss of the bookshop, though painful, was a small price to pay for saving the world. Too late, Aziraphale realised that he had misjudged the reason for Crowley’s hesitance.

It wasn’t so much that Crowley was trying to protect Aziraphale’s feelings by not reminding him of the loss, it’s that he was protecting himself from remembering what he had felt when he thought that Aziraphale was gone for good. In that instance, the angel saw all of Crowley’s fears and secrets written as plain as day across his face. Guilt hit him in the gut like a sucker punch.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale interjected carefully. “I owe you so many apologies.”

Before Crowley could gather his thoughts to object or counter, Aziraphale steeled himself and barrelled on.

“I’ve been so awful to you for so long. I can’t even begin to think about how I would make it up to you for all the ways in which I have let you down or hurt you. Even worse, for the times that I have taken advantage of you.”

“Hang on, wait a minute.” Crowley waved his hands in front of Aziraphale to stop him. “What are you talking about?” He looked so confused, there was no pretence, no act. Aziraphale felt his heart break just a little bit.

“Crowley, dear Crowley. Even within just the past 24 hours, I have lost count of the number of times I have been cruel to you. At the bandstand, I sent you away telling you that we weren’t friends. I set out to hurt you. Then you came back and I hurt you again, knowing I would have to aim deeper. The look on your face when I forgave you, what were you even apologising for when it was I who had done wrong? Still, you didn’t leave and came back for me again only to find a burning bookshop and the realisation that I was no longer on the physical plane. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.” Aziraphale paused to collect himself. The memory of Crowley sat in that pub, openly crying and grieving, it would haunt Aziraphale for the rest of eternity.

Crowley was leaning forward now, invested in Aziraphale’s rambling apology-cum-explanation. 

His voice cracked with emotion as he continued. “When I came back and found you, I didn’t even acknowledge what I’d put you through. I just ignored your suffering and piled more responsibility on you. I must have seemed so unfeeling, a completely oblivious idiot.” Aziraphale shook his head to dislodge the whispering doubts that tried to cling to his negativity. “You were never anything short of wonderful. You’ve always been exactly what I needed even when I didn’t realise that’s what you were. I’ve constantly put Heaven and myself first, trying to tell myself that you were doing the same even when it was painfully clear that you weren’t.”  
“Angel...” Crowley faltered, unsure of what he could say to reassure Aziraphale.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, just absorbing what had been revealed. Crowley started to try and speak, stuttering out some kind of conciliatory dismissal. Aziraphale held up his hand to stop him.

“Dear, whatever you’re about to say would do us both a disservice. You deserve this apology at least as much as I deserve the torment of realising the extent of my poor behaviour.” 

Aziraphale reached up to take Crowley’s sunglasses off. The way the demon flinched away from his hand cut him to the core, but it felt like an appropriate reaction given all that Aziraphale had done. He dropped his hands into his lap instead of pushing the matter.

“Sorry, Angel. I’m not used to people touching my glasses. Hastur took them off me earlier and it, uh, it wasn’t good.” 

Being compared to Hastur had Aziraphale’s stomach tied in tight knots. He nodded in mute understanding but watched in amazement as Crowley removed the glasses himself and set them neatly on the coffee table. The demon was slow to meet his gaze, but meet it he did. As always, Aziraphale was blown away by the beauty of Crowley’s eyes and the soul they exposed.

“Heh, no barriers now.” Crowley joked weakly. 

It was true, though. It was stupid of Aziraphale not to have seen it before, the sunglasses were a barrier that Crowley relied on to protect himself. He had no need to hide his eyes when he had the power to make mortals see whatever he desired. He was protecting himself from vulnerability, from being truly seen. It was not Aziraphale’s place to try and remove that and he mentally kicked himself for being so utterly dense. Leaning closer, he took Crowley’s hands in his own and held them as if he was holding a pair of baby rabbits; gently so as not to hurt them, but firmly enough to reassure them that they were safe. 

“I’ve been such a fool. You’ve been so patient, so forgiving, and all I’ve done is dismiss you. I spent so long just writing off what you were saying as demonic temptations, suspecting you of trying to make me fall, being so damned sure that Heaven was right even if I couldn’t see the bigger picture myself. I held back from you because I was so afraid for you, in my own misguided way I was trying to protect you. If I told myself that we weren’t friends, that I didn’t care about you, then maybe you’d be safe from the wrath of Hell. I’m sorry that it’s taken me until now to say this.” Aziraphale braced himself for the big one. “Crowley, dearest Crowley, you were always right. I’m fully on our side. I know I’m late. I hope I’m not too late though.”

Tears ran freely down Aziraphale’s cheeks now and he made no attempt to dry them. Crowley looked frozen as if he was caught in the headlights of an especially threatening truck. 

“What I really want to say, Crowley, is that if tonight...” Aziraphale gestured loosely to the room around them. “If this is all we have, I want you to know that I love you. I have loved you for centuries. And I’m sorry for everything.”


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley was _furious_. He paced around the room, spending more time out of Aziraphale’s sightline than in it but making more than enough noise for the angel to be able to pinpoint his location in the suite at any moment. He had jumped up as soon as Aziraphale had finished his declaration of love and had now been stomping about and swearing under his breath for several minutes. All Aziraphale could do was sit and watch, waiting for Crowley to either say something to him, calm down, or storm out. The latter had been Aziraphale’s first fear when the demon had leapt from the sofa; that he was about to walk out and leave them both alone. When that hadn’t happened, he had allowed himself a small sigh of relief for all that he was still extremely worried by the reaction he was witnessing. Crowley had picked up a bottle of whiskey from the bar and was pouring liberal measures into a crystal tumbler and taking long swallows between muttering profanities.

“Crowl-”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it, angel! You don’t get to talk right now.” Crowley was suddenly in view, pointing a finger in Aziraphale’s face and waving the whiskey bottle accusingly.

Aziraphale pressed his lips together and folded his hands in his lap, the very picture of contrition. There was no part of him that didn’t feel like he deserved this reaction. He had treated poor Crowley abominably for millennia. Pushing him away, keeping him at a distance, treating him like he was beneath Aziraphale. All the excuses that he could make died on his tongue; he had acted so bloody superior to Crowley, this really had been a long time coming.

Finally, Crowley dropped into an armchair across from Aziraphale. He snatched his sunglasses up from the table but appeared to have second thoughts about putting them on, instead hanging them from the neck of his shirt. He slumped back and looked balefully at the angel. Aziraphale’s stomach dropped and he felt cold tremors grip his spine. He had been too late.

Crowley leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and tenting his fingertips at his lips.

“Your sense of timing is just… It’s really something else. What am I supposed to do, Aziraphale?” The mention of his name made the angel wince, Crowley almost always called him angel. “Here we are, mere hours after averting the end of the world, potentially just hours from an eternal death, and you decide to pour your heart out to me now?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to retort.

“Rhetorical question, angel. I’ll tell you when you can speak.” A little of the edge was gone and the familiar nickname was back. “I would have given ANYTHING to have heard you say these things before this afternoon. But now, now it feels like a last-ditch attempt to earn my forgiveness before we each face our judgements. You do see how it looks, right?”

A nod was ventured in response. Aziraphale found that he could no longer look Crowley in the eyes, he was so ashamed of himself. Crowley was on his feet again, taking a lap of the room.

“I want to believe you. I want to understand you. I just, I don’t know. I feel lost.” He flopped on to the sofa next to Aziraphale again, closer than he had been before. He took Aziraphale’s face in his hands, making the angel meet his gaze. “Help me out here, angel. Please.”

His eyes were full of tears, Aziraphale noticed. Without thinking, he took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed at Crowley’s eyes.

“Oh please don’t cry, dear.”

They stared at each other for half a second, registering the pain, fear, and heartache that they both were feeling. Crowley broke first and very suddenly threw his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Before he had pulled the angel all the way into his embrace, Aziraphale had got his arms around Crowley’s waist and was pulling him into his lap. Crowley tightened his grip and buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck; the angel ran his hands up and down Crowley’s back and took deep breaths of the scent of his hair.

Although he had so many things he still wanted to say, Aziraphale knew that this was more about what Crowley needed and Crowley needed to be held.

They sat entwined like this for some time, Crowley sniffling wordlessly whilst Aziraphale stroked his back and made soothing noises. The anger had gone but the hurt that remained was intense. Aziraphale wanted so badly to make it up to Crowley; to prove himself with some grand gesture of love, but he had missed his chance. All he could do was wait for Crowley to show him how they would proceed.

Oh, but it was wonderful to have the rail-thin demon in his arms. To be able to hold him so close, breathe him in by the needy lungful, to feel the shape of him with tentative fingertips. This is how it should have been from the start, just the two of them on a side of their own making. Aziraphale cursed himself for his blindness, his stubbornness, even his faith. The poor, broken thing in his lap is what he should have been loving and protecting all along.

Eventually, Crowley broke the embrace and crawled out of Aziraphale’s reach. He sank back into an armchair and folded his legs up to his chest, wrapping serpentine arms around his knees. Aziraphale felt the loss of him as keenly as if his heart had been ripped out and all he could do was watch it move further away from him.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale with a sickly combination of yellow irises and red lined lashes. Half his face was hidden behind his legs, giving Aziraphale the impression of being watched by a wary animal. He ached with the desire to hold Crowley to his chest again, even as the demon made a concerted effort to pull himself together, but he barely dared to move for fear of startling his beloved.

“You look like a scolded schoolboy.” Crowley’s tone was flat, no mirth.

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

“Leave? You think that I might want to leave? You really are stupid.”

Aziraphale had no response. He no longer knew whether to hope or cry or beg or say to hell with it all and pull Crowley back to him. Emotions were so damned messy. What he did know was that he had royally screwed this up. Aziraphale had thought he was protecting Crowley from the worst that Hell could throw at him but he’d never truly understood. How could he? It wasn’t Hell that had been the problem, it was that Crowley had never stopped Falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

Slowly and carefully, Aziraphale moved on to the floor and towards Crowley. He knelt before the demon and looked up into fearful topaz eyes.

Yes, he was stupid and blind and selfish. Crowley had been telling him for as long as they had known each other about the damage he was suffering. Self-sabotaging, spoiling-for-a-fight Crowley was crying out to be punished, to know that it was done, that he had reached the bottom. Heaven hadn’t wanted him and Hell didn’t care for him. Other demons had taken to evil like whatever it is that takes to water really well. Crowley worked in mischief and choices. His entire existence was a scream, torn from lungs of fire and ash, crying out to be noticed and hated. Being torn from Heaven’s grace had damaged him so deeply that he believed himself unworthy of kindness, empathy, and love. The rest of Hell didn’t care about those things, they didn’t want them, they didn’t feel the emptiness that Crowley felt in the depths of his chest. Crowley was drowning and blessedly stupid Aziraphale had given him just enough air to prolong the torment.

From his position at Crowley’s feet, the angel reached up and took his hand. He pressed his lips to the knuckles before turning it over and placing a kiss in Crowley’s palm.

“My love, I have been so stupid. I will spend the rest of our eternal lives showing you how much I love you, and how worthy you are of such love; if you’ll let me.”

“Isn’t that the problem though? That we don’t have much life left?” Crowley sounded bitter but he didn’t pull his hand back from Aziraphale’s grasp.

“I don’t know how, yet, but I’m not going to let this be the end. You deserve so much better than the life you’ve had.”

Crowley looked like he was about to protest but bit back at whatever vicious denouncement he’d formed. Instead, he uncurled a little; coming out from behind his knees and cupping Aziraphale’s face with his hand.

“I love you, you know.”

Aziraphale beamed at Crowley’s admission, allowing hope to flare a little brighter in his chest.

“I love you.”

Crowley rewarded him with a weak smile. Aziraphale was suddenly reminded of everything that Crowley had been through today and the immense toll it must have had on him. Angels and demons don’t need food or sleep or recovery time, as a rule, but Crowley had always been partial to relaxing when things got stressful. Whether his sudden exhaustion was a result of habit, actual exertion, or merely because he expected to be worn down by all he’d endured was besides the point. His eyes half-closed and his hand fell away from Aziraphale’s cheek.

“’M tired, angel.”

“I know, love. Let’s get you to bed.”

Crowley nodded and allowed Aziraphale to help him stand. The angel suspected that Crowley was fully capable of walking unaided but he wasn’t about to pass up the chance to hold him. He wrapped an arm around his waist and held Crowley firmly against his side, leading him into the bedroom. As soon as they were close enough Crowley flopped onto the bed, face-first.

“That can’t be comfortable, dear.”

Whatever smart reply Crowley composed was lost in the pillows that surrounded his face.

“Come on, at least take your shoes off.”

Crowley snapped his fingers, removing his shoes and clothes with a miracle. His underwear remained on. The clothes were now scattered about the floor as if he had hurled them away.

Holding in the urge to tut disapprovingly, Aziraphale gathered up the discarded clothes and folded them neatly on a chair. With a fair amount of manhandling, he managed to get Crowley under the covers and laying in something close to a comfortable position. Crowley wriggled himself the rest of the way to comfy, on his side with his back to Aziraphale. The angel sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over Crowley’s fire-red hair.

“I don’t want to disturb you, so I’ll be in the other room. Sleep well, my love; I’m going to solve this problem for us.”

Crowley snuffled sleepily in response, just on the edge of consciousness. He was asleep before Aziraphale left.

Now alone with his thoughts, Aziraphale set himself up for some serious thinking. He hung his jacket up by the door, summoned a luxurious mug of hot chocolate, selected a pen from the desk, and sat in the armchair recently occupied by Crowley with the pad of hotel-branded paper. At the top of the page he, somewhat optimistically, wrote ‘Ideas for averting certain death’ and began turning over the thoughts in his head.

After two hours of hard work Aziraphale had written and crossed out ‘Become invisible so they can’t find us.’, ‘Apologise?’, and ‘Run away – where?’. He had also managed a good doodle of Gabriel with stink lines instead of a halo and a cute little snake coiled into the shape of a love-heart. It would be safe to say that things weren’t going well in the ideas department.

Frustrated and out of hot chocolate, Aziraphale got up and started to pace the room as if divine inspiration might be found hidden in some corner of the suite. His hands automatically went to where his jacket pockets would be if he were wearing said jacket. With a huff, he redirected his hands to the little pockets of his waistcoat and hooked his thumbs into them. An unexpected scrap of paper brushed against his right thumb; confused, he pulled the scrap out to examine it.

‘_When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre.’_

He’d forgotten all about the prophecy he’d taken from the airfield. It was probably unrelated nonsense, but it _felt _important in some ineffable way. If Aziraphale had known exactly how often coincidence had played her role in nudging everyone towards their current positions then he might have understood the message more quickly. As it was, this might as well be another Betamacks prophecy.

The angel sat back down and put the prophecy next to his notepad. Burying his face in his hands, Aziraphale fought the urge to scream; this was impossible and he was going to let Crowley down right when he needed him the most. Unbidden, the image of Crowley being destroyed muscled its way into Aziraphale’s mind; Crowley being devoured by hellfire, burning up and coming apart as ash. But that’s not right, Crowley can withstand hellfire and he’d already done it today in a body that should have suffered.

Feeling like he was right at the edge of an epiphany, Aziraphale tried to metaphorically tease this thought apart. Heaven and Hell were not going to be writing reprimands or giving warnings, that much was clear. Crowley and Aziraphale were considered traitors, dangerous rebels who had disrupted the Great Plan. They would be destroyed completely. The question was how? There aren’t too many ways to truly destroy an angel or a demon. In fact, Aziraphale realised slower than he would have liked, there’s only one way; holy water for a demon and hellfire for an angel.

Would they risk having holy water in Hell? Would Heaven allow hellfire inside its hallowed halls? Aziraphale had to acknowledge that the wrath they had brought upon themselves was certainly enough for such extreme measures.

He swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat. Soon he really would be playing with fire. Finally it all fell into place. They would need to choose their faces wisely, literally choose their faces. Aziraphale snatched up the singed paper and kissed it with glee; oh it would be a bastard to pull off and there was no guarantee that it would work but what other plan was there? If they could switch bodies, Aziraphale would face the holy water for Crowley and Crowley would walk through hellfire for Aziraphale. Everyone would be so horrified by the implications of it that they could probably make some serious demands for the foreseeable future.

Aziraphale was giddy. Agnes Nutter had put it right in front of him and now he had the answer they needed. He couldn’t wait to tell Crowley, but he was sleeping and the news would keep for a few more hours. Aziraphale settled for using a miracle to put some champagne on ice for when the demon awoke. He was about to get comfortable with a book when the tranquillity of the suite was shattered by an unearthly scream coming from the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ducks! That's what takes to water.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Pearl09 for being an excellent beta reader <3

Without pausing to consider his own safety or to grab anything to use as a weapon, Aziraphale ran into the bedroom where he had left Crowley sleeping peacefully a few short hours before. He had been prepared to face any number of horrors but what he saw was unlike anything he could have anticipated. Crowley lay curled in a tight ball, tangled in the bedsheets, with an anguished look on his face, and cries of pain escaping his twisted mouth.

Aziraphale stalled, unsure of what to do to help. Crowley stretched and contorted into another tortured shape, his arms reaching out blindly as he called wordlessly. In a breath, the angel was on the bed beside him, gathering Crowley into his arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead. At first, the demon resisted the comforting embrace and tried to push away. Aziraphale held him firmly, prepared to release him if there was a bad reaction to feeling trapped, but most concerned about not letting his love be alone. Gradually, Crowley stilled and relaxed; the tension in his muscles dissipated and his breathing became more regular.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Aziraphale shifted to a more comfortable position and lay back, still holding Crowley against him. Frown lines still marked Crowley’s face but most of his earlier terror had eased; Aziraphale stared at him in rapt awe. He was so beautiful, divine even. The angel dropped more kisses on his brow whilst humming an ancient lullaby.

“Angel?” Crowley’s voice was quiet, disbelieving.

“Yes love, I’m here.”

“Why?”

“You were having a nightmare, I think. I was worried about you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Oh.” Crowley looked up at the angel. “Thank you.”

Crowley looped his arms around Aziraphale and settled back down. Neither of them spoke for several long minutes, both being reluctant to ruin a rare moment of softness.

“Have you had any ideas?” “Do you often have nightmares?” They both spoke at the same time. Crowley laughed and Aziraphale insisted that Crowley answer first.

“Uh, I don’t know. I used to have them a lot, in the beginning. Now I don’t really remember dreaming much at all, but I do still wake up in positions that make it seem like I’ve had one.”

Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s hair as he spoke, gently reassuring him that he was safe and loved.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Yeah, in a minute. You still owe me an answer.”

Aziraphale looked uncomfortable for a moment.

“I’m not sure I should say it out loud, but I think I’ve got a solution.”

Aziraphale looked at the way Crowley was so neatly enclosed in his arms and decided that getting up to fetch the pad was not an option. A quick miracle had the paper and pen on the bed with them. For his part, Crowley merely raised an eyebrow at the doodles that decorated the page.

Flipping to a fresh page, the angel wrote out an explanation of his idea and showed it to Crowley.

“I always said you were clever.” He said once he had finished reading.

Aziraphale preened at the compliment before remembering the turbulent night they’d been having because of his excessive stupidity.

“It’s our best bet at least. Now, do you need me to leave you to sleep?” Aziraphale tried to keep his voice clear of the yearning desire he felt, the desire to hold Crowley all night.

“Would you stay? I’d prefer if you stayed. You don’t have to sleep, just lay with me?” The words tumbled out of Crowley as if he was afraid of changing his mind about asking.

“Of course I’ll stay.”

Crowley kicked the sheets away from his legs and started to put the bed back into some kind of order. Aziraphale hesitated but ultimately got off the bed and undressed carefully, folding his clothes neatly, until he was left in his underwear and an undershirt. This earned him a soft smile from the demon who was now settled back under the covers. Aziraphale climbed in next to him, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. Crowley must have noticed because he laughed.

“I asked you to stay. You’re not the one who goes too fast, angel.”

Crowley had probably meant to reassure the angel, but he’d picked an unfortunate point in their shared history as a reference. Aziraphale froze in the dark, his eyes widened, as he remembered another time he had hurt Crowley. After a beat, he continued getting into the bed but it had been enough of a reaction for the other to notice.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I just meant that you don’t have to worry about scaring me off.”

Although still stung, the reassurance of his intentions soothed Aziraphale, who settled in the bed and reached for Crowley, folding him up in an embrace. The demon rested his head on his lover’s shoulder and entwined their legs together. They had never before had such an excess of skin-to-skin contact. Aziraphale marvelled at the warmth, the softness, the delicately spicy scent of the demon in his arms. His heart felt so full of love that his chest might burst from it. He allowed his fingertips to explore the expanse of smooth skin that was presented to him and Crowley hummed in muted appreciation.

“This feels so right,” Aziraphale said before placing a kiss in Crowley’s hair. “I’m so sorry I made you wait.”

Crowley looked up at his angel and held his cheek with one hand.

“No more apologies tonight, please. If this is all we have, I mean to enjoy it.”

With a smile on his lips, Aziraphale bent his head towards Crowley and they shared their first kiss. Aziraphale poured every drop of love that he felt into the kiss, transforming it into a promise of many, many more to be shared just like this. In return, he felt Crowley’s promise to hold him to it. The angel held his beloved all through the night; no more nightmares returned to haunt him, warded off by the secure embrace and gentle caresses that continued until the sun was well over the horizon.

They each dressed themselves, held each other and kissed far more than either expected and finally acknowledged that it was time.

Aziraphale held out his hand for Crowley to take and initiate the body swap but Crowley knocked it away, moving instead for another kiss. Their lips met and arms automatically took hold of each other. Through the kiss they rewrote each other’s forms, exchanging details of both corporeal and ethereal bodies. Aziraphale had never known such intimacy was possible before now. Finally, it was done. They broke apart and inspected each other, checking that the illusions passed muster.

“I’ll head to the bookshop, see if there’s anything to be salvaged. I think that’s what they’d expect you to do.” Crowley said from Aziraphale’s mouth.

“Good, yes. I’ll head back to your flat and see what state it’s in.” Aziraphale would willingly clean up what remained of Ligur if it meant that Crowley didn’t have to.

“Then, if nothing happens beforehand, we’ll meet at the park at 11.” Crowley seemed hesitant.

“It’s going to be OK, my love. I’m sure of it.” Aziraphale sounded confident enough, perhaps it was an effect of using Crowley’s voice.

They left the suite together and parted ways at the Strand. Crowley walked off in the direction of Soho and Aziraphale hailed a cab to take him to Mayfair. It hurt to watch Crowley walk away without so much as a goodbye, but it was for the best. Aziraphale held on to that thought for the duration of the ride to Crowley’s flat.

Everything seemed to be in order as he let himself in to the building, he was on edge constantly but around every corner he continually found, well, nothing. There was no fallen bucket, no puddle of melted demon, none of the mess that Crowley had prepared Aziraphale to find. Under strict instructions, Aziraphale found the water mister and saw to the plants. He couldn’t bring himself to terrorise them but tried to keep a suitably stern face on as he watered them. Telling himself that it was diligence and not curiosity, Aziraphale poked about the flat a bit and checked out all of the rooms. He hoped that Crowley wouldn’t want to decorate everywhere he lived like this, it was all rather bleak.

When the appointed hour approached, Aziraphale decided to exit the building using the other door. Parked across the street was a sight he truly had not expected, the Bentley. Crowley was going to be so happy to see it again, the thought made Aziraphale’s heart fairly sing. He gave the car a quick look over, satisfying himself that it truly was _the _Bentley and not some cruel joke, and then hailed a cab to take him to the park. He began to hope that Crowley might have found good news at the bookshop as well. He couldn’t wait to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

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